


Risky Business

by kingslayersrogue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abby owns a bar, Alcohol, Because I can't go 10 minutes without it, Cards, Con Artists, F/M, Falling In Love, Gratuitous flirting & teasing, Half of this fic is just back story, Kissing, Lots of kissing, Lots of money, Marcus is a natural born card shark, Marcus is far from the law, Meeting in a bar AU, Money, Poker!AU, Possible rating changes, They're both babes, Unnecessary amounts of backstory, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingslayersrogue/pseuds/kingslayersrogue
Summary: They meet by chance in her small town bar and hit it off right from the start,kinda.(Or the one where I planned a one shot of sexy kabby con artists but got carried away with a backstory and ended up deciding to go multi-chapter. Pray the muse lets me finish this.)





	1. Handsome Strangers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KSuzMil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KSuzMil/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus Kane, 26. An experienced drifter traveling from one town to the next soaking in life. Avid poker player and master of the cards. 
> 
> Abby Griffin, 25. Small town bar owner, perfectly happy with her life right where it is. You probably couldn't get her to leave her life if you tried. 
> 
> He's the handsome stranger dominating Tuesday night poker. She's the woman who can't help but hold his full attention. What could they end up being to each other?

He’d shown good promise with cards from a young age, a quick dealer, and an impassable poker face. Capable of bluffing his way out of anything (something that made him quite the handful.) “You’re a natural born shark,” his father would say, before being promptly being swatted with whatever newspaper or magazine his mother was reading. Marcus would laugh and shuffle his prized deck, doing magic tricks and building card towers and other things his mother deemed more acceptable than an 11-year-old card shark. He still had those nights when his dad would crack open his door, pulling him out of bed and dealing him into whatever game he’d decided would be the lesson for the night. Laughing and talking over a cold beer (orange juice for Marcus) with the sound of their favorite rock bands playing on the radio. He’d learn how to deal quick and smooth. When to raise and by how much, when to fold and how to know if your opponents got a good hand or not. By 14, he was an expert and regularly beat out his father when the cards permitted.  

“A man is only as good as the cards he holds,” his father would say, dealing both of them in for five card draw. Whenever his father dealt, Marcus always got a bad hand. He couldn’t figure out why even when his father, with an odd glint in his eye, told the rest of that odd phrase he’d repeated since he was a kid. “A man is only as good as the cards he holds, make sure you know how to deal what you need.”  His father turned over his hand, showing Marcus a 5-9 straight flush, one of the best hands you could get. He peaked at his own cards, inwardly frowning at the pair of twos.

Marcus played by the rules, there were there for a reason right? He didn’t know that there _was_ any other way to play. Didn’t know the loopholes, the in’s and out’s, he didn’t know you _could_ cheat. Not until he watched his father deal out four flushes in a row. Over and over and over again. From then on that was what he practiced, no longer mastering the game but the cards themselves.  Then one night, his father didn’t come home. He didn’t sling his bag down and kiss his wife hello. Didn’t ruffle his son’s unruly hair and sit down to help with his history homework. Didn’t drag him out of bed in the middle of the night and teach him how to stack a deck without anyone figuring it out. And they never figured out why.

 

* * *

 

 

She grew up in this place, it was her home. These stools, the glasses (not so much the drunk ornery men) but this bar was her home nonetheless. Her parents owned it, their sole source of income. It wasn’t particularly busy but it wasn’t empty, it was just enough for them to live comfortably. She learned how to walk on those worn wood floors, lost her first tooth sitting at the corner stool, watching her father clean the glasses. She had her first kiss next to the beat-up pool table right after closing. Her soul was trapped between those walls, drifting just like the old rock songs her father played on the radio. When she was old enough, she learned how to make drinks, take orders, serve customers. She learned everything there was about running that bar, and everyone that came in knew her too. She could call everyone by name and pour the right drink before they even asked. It was home in every meaning of the word.  


When her parents retired early and put the bar up for sale, she _begged_ them to sell it to her. The thought of losing it to some stranger was unbearable. They’d hesitated, urging her to college get an education so she could do better than they did. She knew they meant well, only wanting the best for her, _but this was what she wanted._ To be behind that counter, mixing drinks and swaying to whatever music played. It was only when her parents saw that she was as much of a part of this place as it was a part of her. Then they dropped the keys in her hands and told her to follow her heart.

That was four years ago, she’s 25 now and the bar is a smash hit. Earning her more than enough to maintain and even upgrade it while also attending online classes in her spare time. Something her parents had still pushed for even after passing down the bar.

It’s Tuesday night and the place is packed with veterans and even some newcomers, all cramming to watch the new guy dominate the weekly poker crowd. She watches him from behind the counter, he’s tall even when sitting down. Dark eyes and even darker hair that’s gelled back so much it nearly sparkles. He’s got game, he’s good with cards and even better with the people but it doesn’t _look_ like he’s cheating so she won’t have to make Eric throw him out, _yet._ He takes the regulars in stride, all men that have twice the reputation and more than triple his size. He doesn’t just win though, _he wipes them out,_ sending most of them stomping and grumbling off to the counter for another round. _Good for business,_ she thinks as she pours a sulking Harry another mug of Monty’s. “Who’s the newbie, d’you hire ‘em to empty our pockets?”

“No Murphy, I didn’t. Maybe you should just be more careful of how much you bet instead of trying to show off to my waitstaff.” Murphy grumbles, throwing a look at Emori as she set a basket of fries next to one of the remaining players. “She’s into you, you know. So you can stop staring at her like a lovesick puppy and do something about it,” She says, accepting the wad of cash he gives her to cover his tab. She can see his eyebrows shoot into his hairline, looking excitedly between her and the girl before his tough guy attitude falls firmly back into place. “Cool, yeah, maybe I will, but only if you stop staring at the guy who stole all my money like you want him to throw you up against the wall.” She broke her stare on the man's dark leather jacket and the way his hands moved with the cards to glare at Murphy. “ _Scram,_ ” Abby says, giving her best _you’ll-regret-it-if-you-don’t_ look. He beats it, almost scampering over to where Emori is taking her 15-minute break.

There’s a lapse in orders and she finds her eyes drifting back to the mysterious man, they trail up his chest slowly. Taking in the hint of underlying muscle tensing beneath his tight gray shirt. They land on his arms next, and she can see their impressively toned with his jacket now removed. Her head tips up the last bit and her heart stops. His eyes are locked onto hers, and she knows she’s been caught. They’re a shade of deep brown that seems to hold more questions than answers. He smirks infuriatingly, just a small turn of his upper lip. He raises a glass to his mouth as he reveals a hand that makes the whole table groan and complain.

Even after she drops his stare, something in those dark eyes stays with her. Making what feels like a permanent home in the back of her mind.

She doesn’t get the chance to talk to him that night. Gets caught up dealing with a fight in the parking lot, but there’s a ticket for a single beer and a sizeable tip with her name on it waiting for her when she gets back. It’s not signed but she knows it’s his. To her silent disappointment, he doesn’t come back the next day or even the rest of the week. She tells herself it’s dumb, _really dumb,_ to get caught up on a guy who’s name she doesn't even know and who she’ll probably never see again, but when he shows up the next Tuesday and her heart flutters. She lets herself get excited and do things like a blushy teenager, just as long as no one is looking. Stoic and sharp-tongued barkeep she must remain in the eye of the partons.

Just as the week before, he dominates the group. Causing, even more, outbursts, yet she can't see any signs of cheating. How he came to be so good with cards is just one of many things she’d like to know about him. His name too, she thinks, tipping her head back in a small exasperated chuckle.

“Hi.” It’s not the voice that startles her, but the face she see’s when she looks at who it came from. Tall, dark, and mysterious himself, smiling at her like he knows _exactly_ how his presence is affecting her. “What’ll it be, a sangria? You seem like the type of guy who likes fruity drinks.” His smile broadens as he ducks his head, the waves of his hair gently shaking as he laughs. “A scotch, neat please.” She set the glass down on a coaster, sliding it to him like they were in a movie. (A little trick that she perfected and patrons loved. _Booze and a show_ she called it.) “What’s your name shark, I haven’t seen you around here before?”

“You’ve _seen_ me plenty,” he replies, taking a slow sip of his drink. “So it’s an embarrassing one then. Is it Leslie or something?” _God she hoped his name wasn’t Leslie._ He flashed her another smirk, downing the rest of his scotch and rising from the stool. He throws down a twenty and wipes his water ring off the counter. “Marcus, Marcus Kane.”   
He’s back at the table before she can even process how good his name sounds in combination with his low gravelly voice. She doesn’t get the chance to give him her name but somehow she thinks that’s how he meant it. Somehow she thinks that’s how it’s meant to be, that this thing whatever it is between them, is a game. One that she’s determined to _win._


	2. A real knock out guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing a drink, and the beginning of something new.

He watches her from behind the counter, passing drinks out to a group that just walked in. Her long honey-colored hair is pulled back. She's wearing a red and blue crop top with the word Aaron's written across her chest. She  _ looks _  like she belongs here but from his short time talking with her (and longer time observing her) he felt like she'd fit in a job with more action. Something dangerous, risky. She’d be good at it too, whatever hypothetical job he placed her in. (Somehow, by some strange thing, he saw himself next to her working side by side.)

 

“Hey rookie, are you gonna raise or not. I'm aging over here,” Murphy called out last, shaking Marcus out of his thoughts. “Seeing as I've bled you dry three weeks in a row I don't think you have any place calling me rookie,” Marcus says flatly, raising the pot by half his stock. He watched Murphy's eyes bulge then narrow as he eyed his cards. Marcus knew it was coming a second before it happened. “Damn, I fold.” He grumbled before signaling for another drink. The woman behind the counter brought him over another bottle, purposely knocking into his shoulder. “You know John, I always wonder. Where do you get all this money to blow?”

 

“College fund,” was all he said before grabbing his drink and heading towards the pool table. Marcus watched her move about the table with ease, clearing bottles and picking up empty fry baskets. Everyone subconsciously moving out if her way. “Hey Doc, you ever think about selling this place. Putting yourself somewhere fancier.”  _ They called her doc? Was she a part-time nurse or something? Nurse and bar manager seemed like an odd combo. _

 

“Never in a million years, Martin. Nice try though.” She winked at the man like it was a joke between them before taking her spot behind the bar once more.

 

His game was off, he could  _ feel _  it the moment everyone got back to the cards. His tells were showing and he had a hard time picking up on others. He made bad bets, nearly showed an opponent his cards and almost,  _ almost _  broke his nearly 4-month winning streak. (It would be longer but he had enough honor to know stacking the deck wasn't a real win.) This woman….whatever her name was was throwing him off. Something he needed to put a stop to,  _ soon.  _ By any means necessary, he told himself, by  _ any  _ means necessary _. _

 

*******

 

He had a routine, play once a week and once only. It wouldn’t do for him to get addicted to gambling. It was just a little fun here and there, nothing more. Now, that didn’t mean he could only show up at the bar once a week. Is it not simply  _ normal _  for a man to want a cold drink and a chance to watch the game after a hard day’s work?

 

He paid no attention to his drink nor the football game playing on every screen in the bar. He sat quietly, observing in the corner of the bar at a table all his own. Not a single person save for the waitress who had served him had taken note of his presence.  _ Perfect, _  he thought,  _ perfect. _

 

He sat for a long time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Contemplating just how he could unnerve her enough (in the slyest way possible) to get the upper hand. To shake this completely irrational power she had over him. Never in his life had the mere presence of a woman affected him so much, it was a little embarrassing if he thought about it too long.

 

Now if he didn’t think, just  _ felt. _  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The way her smile lit up the room or the way she moved softly to the music as she cleaned the bar top. Swaying and humming without a care in the world. She looked like she couldn’t be happier than right where she was. She looks so  _ comfortable  _ (something that contrasts nicely with her ability to make him  **_un_ ** _ comfortable. _ ) He had no idea where any of this was going, but he had a pretty good feeling he’d rather enjoy the outcome.

 

*******

  
  


Nathan is the first to point him out, remembering him from last week's poker night before Eric banned him entirely claiming they needed to be smarter with their money if they were going to get married in 8 months. In reality, it was just Eric’s way of avoiding having to tell his boyfriend he really sucked at playing cards.”Your boyfriends here and he’s looking pretty lonely.”

 

“I don’t have a -” she starts, her eyes following to where Nathan is looking until she meets his eyes. Kane sits at the corner table, watching her. Smirking, that infuriating tilt of his lips, at the way her breath visibly catches in her throat. Nathan just whistles and walks away, trying not to let out the laugh bubbling in his chest.

 

Determined to not let it show how much her demeanor has changed since seeing him she grabs a fresh bottle and walks over to him. She takes the seat in front of him like it was meant for her and doesn’t fail to notice the impressed, almost proud look in his eye.”Do you just have excellent service or did you just need an excuse to sit next to me.”

 

“I have  _ impeccable  _ service, and always with a smile,” she said, flashing her most charming one. Innocent enough but with hidden tones you only caught if it was aimed at you. It had the desired effect, she watched the barely contained twitch of his left hand as it gripped the bottle. “Oh I have no doubt you know how to treat a man right,” he said nonchalantly, taking a sip from the bottle.

 

She hid her surprise well, leaning forward with a hand under her chin until her top fell  _ just so. _  It was the briefest flicker, eyes moving down and back up so fast you’d have to be watching to catch it.  _ He’s very much a man, _  she thinks with a smile,  _ very much a man.  _ “So, Mr.Kane, you seem to like to hang around me quite a bit. Why don't you tell me about yourself so I can decide whether I want to let that continue,” she leans forward a bit more, letting her eyes run over him in a way that makes him shift and twitch. “You came over and sat next to  _ me, _  that's hardly me hanging around  _ you.  _ Not to mention you know my name, which is already more than I know about you so why don't  _  you  _ tell me something,” he says with a smile that threatens to melt her from the inside out.

 

She thinks for a moment, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth a few times. “I like a tall guy, strong too, but sweet at the same time. I like someone who knows what they want and gets it, like me. Someone who is confident in his…. _ abilities _ , I like a man who's good with His hands,” she says in a voice smooth as silk before rising up to leave. Leaving him sitting at the table mouth agape, painfully aware of the way her hips sway just that extra bit as she takes her place behind the counter once more.

 

When she looks over next and sees his seat empty and his paid tab sitting on the table she marks this off as a win.

 

*******

 

He steps out into the parking lot, greedily breathing in the night air. His body is on fire, tingling with the ghost of her words. In his silly attempt at getting the upper hand on that infernal woman, he damned himself to an even worse fate than losing his edge. She had him wrapped so tightly around her every word, every move and he didn’t even know her name. No woman had ever been able to take such control over him. No  _ person _  had ever been able to do the things she did to him, and he had no idea how to process that information.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in another gulp of air. Trying to calm his racing heartbeat. Once he regained the ability to breathe and his mind had slowed to a manageable pace he pulled on his helmet, hoping the peace of high speeds and the open road could soothe him.

 

*******

  
“So how long are you going to torture that poor guy before you finally make a move?” Callie asks, untying her apron and flopping down on the couch. Abby’s apartment was located right above the bar. It was a perfect arrangement because she had no commute and didn’t have to pay for housing. The bar was everything she needed all wrapped up into one package. “As long as I damn well please.” She regrets the words the second they leave her mouth, the unmissable smirk of a best friend dancing on Callie’s lips. “So you  _ do _  like him?”

 

“What are you? Three years old?” Abby says, deflecting. “No, I just know it gets a little lonely here and you haven't been out in months.”

 

“I’m _  out _  literally every night, I work in a bar Cal.” Callie smacks her on the arm, reprimanding her for the sarcasm. “Promise me if the moments right you'll make a move, he's clearly into you,” She asks in a soft tone. “He doesn't even know my name,” Abby mumbles into her water. “ _ What?!”  _ Callie sputters, choking on her drink. “What do you mean  _ he doesn't know my name,  _ I watched you talk to him for almost an hour?” Abby just hides her face, the little game she plays with Marcus is a bit more embarrassing to talk about than she thought. Callie narrows her eyes before throwing her hands up. “Call the newspaper, Abby Griffin is playing hard to get!” Abby throws a pillow, hitting her friend in the back. “Shut Up CeCe. I barely know who he is, we've only talked a bit.”

 

“Yet he gives you  _ the look _  anytime he sees you,” she protests, making more theatrical motions with her hands. “Physical attraction isn't a stable basis for a relationship.” Callie's eyes roll into the back of her head. “Then just have really good sex!!” The color on Abby's cheeks turned from pink to deep red in under a second. Thinking about Marcus and sex was  _ definitely _  a bad idea. “Stop being gross Callie.”

 

“Abby you're red as a tomato which means you totally want to do him. If it was any other guy you would've just laughed.” Abby blushed even harder, cursing her friend for being able to read her so easily. “Can we  _ please _  talk about anything else?” She begged, hugging a pillow to her chest.

It was easy to flirt with Marcus, to make comments for the sole purpose of seeing him squirm. It was easy to laugh with him, to talk with him, to let him tease her to earth's end, but this? Talking about a relationship, a personal _ , intimate _  relationship.

 

Did she want to be in a relationship with Marcus?  _ Yes.  _ Then why was this so hard?

 

*******

 

Things were insane. Bellamy had canceled on his shift and she was losing her mind. Yes, he had canceled a respectful 4 hours before opening but she hadn’t expected any trouble. Of course, a group of traveling bikers just  _ had _  to show up on the only night of the week she was short staffed and on wits end.

 

She had men in leather and tattoos shouting orders at her from eight different directions. Some shouting obscenities at each other, some shouting them at her.  Her only three wait staff spread paper thin across the entire restaurant area. This was not her quiet small town bar,  _ this was hell. _

 

The only thing that kept her from snapping, splashing cold beer in at least 5 of the guy's faces, and declaring the bar closed before chasing everyone out with a pool stick was Marcus. Sitting at his customary table, flashing her comforting smiles every time she caught him looking at her.

 

After sending out what had to be her 8th round of beers, 5th round of scotches and at least 3 rejections to various men asking for her number she snuck away to Marcus’ table. A place that had become sort of a haven between the two of them. “Are you alright?” He asks, looking like was seconds away from reach across the table and taking her hand. She’s a bit shocked, no flirting, no smirk, just genuine concern. Genuine _  well placed _  concern. “No, it’s never been this crazy I don’t know how to deal with all….. _ that,” _  she says, gesturing vaguely at the overcrowded bar counter. He grimaces before his face twists into something more hopeful. “You want some help?”   
  


“What?” She asks with a shake of her head. “Help, do  _ you  _ want  _ my _  help with all  _ this?” _

 

“I’m not paying,” Abby retorts, stealing a sip from his scotch. Relishing in the sweet burn of the liquid as it moves down her throat. Taking the edge off the chaos around you. “You might change your mind if you see how well I can perform,” he smirks, diving right back into his flirtatious banter that’s oddly comforting. “Only time may tell,” she says, sluggishly taking up her post once more. A little invigorated by the feel of Marcus working right next to her. She’s mixing up two whiskey sours when it happens.

 

It starts as shouting, something petty about who said what and to who. Just shouting nothing serious. Until it's not just shouting, now it’s shoving. One scrappy looking guy getting shoved hard into the side of the pool table by a burly looking jerk. She can’t even tell what they’re fighting about, all she knows is she doesn’t have a bouncer and the crowd is only making things worse. Shouting  _ fight fight fight  _ like they’re all back in grade school.

 

To her surprise (and underlying horror), the scrappy one throws the first punch. Hitting the thug square in the jaw but doing more to piss him off than actually bring him down. The true chaos erupts then, a mosh pit of drunken fools throwing punches and bottles like something out of a shitty western movie. She screams at Harper to call the police, missing the way Marcus jumps over the bar counter and straight into the fray. Throwing as many people as he can out of the circle and into the arms of sensible patrons who can throw them out into the parking lot. Somehow he managed to fight his way through the horde and separate the two that had started the shit storm holding them both back with hands on their chests. “That’s enough!” He growled, chest heaving with the effort of stopping all that commotion. Unsurprisingly, big and buff doesn’t care and shoves right through Marcus to get to the little one. Marcus shoves back, putting another two feet of distance between the wannabe boxers. “I told you once and I’ll tell you again back-” He starts, before crashing to the floor to the sound of glass shattering and falling all around him.


	3. Going out but staying in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus takes Abby out and it goes completely to plan.
> 
> More flirting and innuendos occur.
> 
> Yes, more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is still the backstory. I haven't even gotten _close_ to the main plot.

Scrappy drops the half of the bottle he still has in his hands, looking down horrified at the motionless body on the floor. “Holy shit…. _ I killed him,”  _ he says clutching his head like he hadn’t actually meant to smash Marcus over the head. Stumbling back as Murphy drags him out by the collar of his fake leather jacket. 

 

Abby rushes over, putting her ear to his chest and willing the blood to stop pounding in her ears. She can hear his heart beating beneath her ear, a little shallow, but still, allows her to release the breathing she'd been holding. 

 

The sound of sirens of sirens outside tells her the jackass’ who did this will be taking a nice trip down town. Something that eases her anger but not her worry over Marcus. Who has a steadily bleeding wound  _ somewher _ e on his head and cuts and scrapes all along his arms and neck.

 

Bellamy bursts through the door, looking frantically around until their eyes meet. (She has a very special bond with every one of her staff but Bellamy was extra protective.) His expression was a mix of apology and astonishment as he walked over to her, bending down to place two fingers on the side of Kane's neck. “Help me get him upstairs,” she says getting off the floor. “Shouldn't we take him to a hospital?” 

 

“Blake, just pick him up alright,” she says in the pleading tone he can't help but listen to. 

 

Once Marcus’ still unconscious body is laid nearly on her couch Bellamy departs with a few more apologies. Promising to deal with the growing number of law enforcement in the parking lot. 

 

With the dust settled, Abby allows herself a moment of panic.  _ Should _ Marcus be taken to the hospital? Do head wounds usually bleed this much? She doesn't know because no matter how many times Murphy calls her _ doc  _ she's not an  _ actual _ doctor. 

 

“Do your best,” she whispers to herself, walking into her kitchen and grabbing a washcloth and a cup of warm water. She sits herself beside his chest, squeezing onto the too small couch wondering just how his body can take up so much space. She starts with the blood on his forehead, dabbing carefully to avoid causing him further pain. Most of it has dried, accompanying the glass shards in his hair, painting some of them a dark red. She sets the rag down, diving one of her hands into the mess of Marcus Kane’s hair.

 

_ Holy shit that’s soft. _ Was the first thought that echoed through her mind as the strands slipped through her fingers. A single curl flopping on his forehead, giving him an almost adorable look. “What did you get yourself into?” She asks his sleeping form, leaning closer to inspect the damage to his neck, hands still tangled in his hair. “Nothing I haven’t done before,” he slurs, wincing as the pain in his skull hits him full force. She tugs on his hair in surprise and he makes a sound she never thought she’d hear Marcus Kane  _ ever _ make. 

 

She must be drunk off his proximity, intoxicated by the sound that is Marcus Kane  _ moaning  _ but she leans down. Staring deep into his eyes, watching a swirling darkness take over the chocolate brown orbs.  _ He wants this, _ her mind says feeling her own heart pick up in time with his. She slides her hands into his hair once more, wrapping the strands around her fingers to angle his head. She leans in closer, her lips just barely an inch from his. “Do you want me to kiss you, Marcus,” she whispers. Her own dark eyes boring deep into his. 

 

_ “Please, _ ” his answer is immediate and his voice cracks with desperation. Abby chuckles lightly, her breath fluttering against his lips. “I want to kiss you too,” she breathes before placing her lips on his. 

 

The effect is  _ electric,  _ sending sparks of desire shooting through his body. She tastes sweet but spicy at the same time. Like the scotch, they shared earlier and he can’t help but make another breathy needy sound as it fills his senses. He kisses her eagerly, nothing like a first kiss should be. It’s hot, it’s hard, and it’s damningly hungry. “Marcus,” she says in a breathy little tone when his hands sneak under her shirt, pulling her into his lap. When she traces the seam of his lips with her tongue it tears a growl from his throat. His kisses his way down her neck, finding a spot that makes her sigh his name. He wants to respond but-

 

“Abby,” she says, making him pause with his lips on her collarbone. Marcus looks up at her, a pleased little smile creeping on his face. “Abby,” he murmurs, kissing every inch of sensitive skin he can reach.

 

She gasps, it had been a long time since someone had said her name like  _ that _ and the low, lust-ridden tones of Marcus’ rich voice wash over her in a wave of heat. 

 

She tugs on his hair, bringing his lips back to hers to kiss him. She tugs his lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to bruise. It snaps something inside him and before she knows it he flips their position. His solid weight pressing her down into the cushions of her couch. Sucking and biting with abandon every inch of her neck. Kissing down her chest as far as her v-neck shirt will allow him, hands already pushing the material further up her body. 

 

His hands still, fingers just grazing the bottom of her breast. “Not like this,” he says, pulling away completely. She whines, giving him a confused an almost pouting expression. He chuckles, sitting down on the couch on the cushion not covered by her body. She gives him another look, raised eyebrows asking him just what the hell he thinks he’s doing. “I don’t just  _ want _ you, Abby, I want  _ you. _ If we do this know it could screw everything up,” he says, in the most serious tone, she’s ever heard him use. “Oh…,” she says, eyes cast towards the floor. The energy in the room shifts, replaced by a completely different breed of tension. “I mean...if that’s….if you don’t-” He stammers. “I don’t want to screw it up either,” she says, smirking at the utter relief that passes over his face. The exciting feeling of being able to reduce the suave confident Marcus Kane to nervous stuttering washing over her. They laugh in collective relief and she slides closer, giving him a sly smirk. “Just one more kiss,” she asks and he can’t seem to bring himself to deny.

 

*******

 

She heard the rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot, long before she even considered opening. Abby ignored it, figuring it was someone just using the parking lot. She put in her earbuds, try to block out the noise and get some of her studying done. 

 

The sudden thud of a sleek black helmet landing right next to her laptop makes her jump. Whirling around her eyes land on Marcus’ black-clad figure, strong and defined in his riding jacket. “Jesus Marcus, you scared the hell out of me,” she says, giving him a powerless glare. “Get up,” he says, tossing her his helmet. “We’re going out.” 

 

“What are earth do you mean  _ we’re going out?” _ He smiles, taking the pen out of her hand and setting it on the bar top. “You don’t open for five hours, let’s go.” She raises her eyebrows, removing his hand from her shoulder. “I have studying to do,” she says, holding up the book she’d been reviewing. He takes it from her hand, glancing at the cover. “Would you rather study anatomy from a book or…..study my _ anatomy,” _ he laughed.

 

She uses a glare to hide her shock at his less than subtle comment. “I thought you said you wanted more than sex, Marcus.” He hands her his helmet with another smirk. “It’s not  _ just sex  _ if I take you on a date first,” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “So come on, get that ass moving we’re burning daylight.”

 

“So you’re taking me on a date, you know a regular person would’ve lead with that instead of….whatever that just was,” she said, grabbing the helmet and letting herself be dragged outside. Groaning as the bright sunlight hit her eyes.“It’s called making an argument, and from the red on your cheeks I say you got the point.” Marcus pulls a hoodie out of his saddle bag, handing it to her before he turns the keys in the bike’s ignition. Making it rumble gloriously to life. “That’ll keep you from freezing or getting hit by anything.” It was at least two sizes too big with holes in the sleeves but it still carried his smell. The scent of pine forests mixed with engine exhaust (somehow) making an intoxicating combination. He slid the helmet over her head, adjusting the straps so it fit her perfectly. Marcus pulled the sunglasses on the top of his head over his eyes, swinging his leg over the bike and sitting down. She flipped the visor up, giving him a deadly glare. “Where in the fresh hell is  _ your _ helmet?” She nearly shouts, the sound almost overcome by the engine. “ _ Mine _ is on your head,  _ yours _ is in the mail. Now get on.” She does, huffing as does and locking her arms extra tight around his torso. “This is your first time on a bike isn’t it?” He asks, smirking when her nervous eyes give an affirmative answer. “Well I can promise you, like  _ other _ things, they’re always fun to ride.” Then he maxes the throttle and they shoot out of the parking lot, spraying gravel as they go.

 

*******

 

“Marcus Kane I swear to god if you took  _ me _ to a  _ bar _ I will never talk to you again,” she says, looking appreciatively at the establishment in front of her. “Ye of little faith,” he mumbles, using one hand to flick the visor down on the helmet, effectively cutting her communication abilities as he unstraps it. When it finally comes off she groans, catching sight of her tousled tangled hair in one of the handle mirrors. Wordlessly, Marcus produces a hairbrush from one of his saddlebags. “How many girls did you have to take out for you to come up with this handy idea?” She asks, running it through her hair. “Only you,” he answers, taking her by the hand and leading her inside. 

 

“This is Raven’s,” he announces, almost proudly, upon entering. There are pictures of cars and motorcycles all over the walls. Various trophies and medals hung on one and an entire wall of vinyl records on another. It’s completely mismatched but somehow blends perfectly. “I can’t believe you thought I’d take you to a bar,” he says, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Where do you want to sit?” She hasn’t had the chance to fully take in the options but the spiral staircase leading to a separate area with only a few tables catches her eyes. There are large windows that overlook the city’s shiny lights and it’s a nice distance away from the rest of the patrons. She points and he follows, smiling at her choice. 

 

They’re sitting quietly at their table when she walks up, shouting his name and looking quite upset. “Kane! When the hell were you going to tell me you were here!” He hasn’t even turned to look at her when a proud little smirk graces his face. “On my way out, that’s when,” he says, standing up and facing her. “I’m not here for a social visit Raven,” He says, looking over at Abby. Raven follows his gaze, a confused look settling over her. “What happened to the one you were here with last week?”

 

Abby’s jaw dropped, hot anger quickly welling inside her. “Raven,” he hissed, giving her a withering glare. “I’m kidding, I swear,” the girl said, looking at Abby who looked ready to leave. “I haven’t seen Marky with anyone other than his boys in months. I was beginning to think he was-”

 

“Reyes, leave.” He pleaded, offering her his best  _ get-out-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you  _ look. Only when he’s promised to visit her soon does she scamper back down the spiral staircase. “Who on earth was that?” Abby asks once they’ve both settled back into their seats. “That was my mechanic.”

 

“Your mechanic?”

 

“Yes, my mechanic,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “I thought she owned the restaurant, I mean it’s named after her.” He shakes his head, a horrified look on his face. “God no, she couldn’t cook a meal to save her life. Her foster father owns it and named it after her.” Abby nods and their waiter appears just a moment later, setting their food down and refilling their drinks. She’s starving and can’t help but moan at little as the first taste of perfectly cooked lasagna hits her tongue. “Did you just-” he asks, the beginnings of a smug smile already on his lips. “Absolutely not,” she says, hiding her own smile behind her hand.

 

*******

 

Marcus walks over, finished with his last goodbyes to the girl named Raven. “We have time for one more stop,” he says checking his watch. “What do you want to do?” The question is innocent, but she can’t help all decisively  _ less _ innocent ideas that jump to the front of her mind. “Take me back home and I’ll show you.” She notices the way his eyes bulge but pulls the helmet over her head before he can kiss her smirk away. Forcing him to secure the straps and feel the heat of her chest on his back the entire drive back to the bar.

 

Before she knows it he’s dragged her up into her apartment and shoved her roughly against the now closed door. They’ve only got a few minutes before she has to go down and open up the bar, but with the way Marcus’ lips attack hers. He intends to make the most of it. 

 

“God Abby, I don’t know how I’m supposed to sit down there all night knowing what it’s like to taste your lips,” he breathes, sneaking his hands under her shirt. Tracing circles with his thumbs on the soft skin of her hips. “Play nice and I may just let you stay the night,” she hums, tugging his hair until his lips trail down her neck, nipping and sucking red-purple marks just below the neck of her shirt. She’s about to say fuck it to opening tonight and just stay here. In Marcus Kane’s arms so he can kiss her until she can’t breathe and fuc-

 

“Hey doc, wake up. It’s time to open and there’s already a line outside,” Bellamy says, knocking on the very same door she’s pressed up against. “Be right there,” she says, panting slightly. A fact Bellamy doesn’t notice thankfully. One last time she lets her run over him, his tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips. His strong heaving chest, all because of her. It gives her the power to slip out of the door with a simple “Duty calls.” Leaving him out of breath and more than a little turned on. 


	4. Yours & Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd let them have it that easy did you?

It’s excruciating, just as he knew it would be, watching her. While knowing that he’s allowed to kiss her, allowed to touch her. Even just the thought of touching her makes his hand twitch. He’s going to need another drink if he’s going to be able to get through the night watching her in her element. 

 

“I thought you were going to try and keep your distance,” she smirks, filling his glass. “I can’t help it,” he says, tone conveying how true the statement is. Abby sighs theatrically, throwing him a seemingly sympathetic look. “As a respected business owner you can’t expect me-” His lips turn down in a deep frown, this clearly wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Yeah yeah, I know,” he grumbles, taking a healthy sip. 

 

She probably enjoys making him squirm too much, toying with his obvious desire for her. Besides the more she gets him riled up the more delicious the consequences. “It’s just a few hours Marcus,” She hums in a way that makes darkness swim at the edge of his eyes. “You’re going to torture me aren’t you,” he comments with a twinge of fear. She chuckles, giving a less than innocent smirk. “Of course. It’ll make having you all to myself so much more fun.“

 

“You can have me  _ right now,” _ Marcus whines, fidgeting in his seat. “No, baby. I can’t, not yet.” He gasps and darkness blooms across his normally chocolate brown eyes. She watches as he retreats outside knowing she’s in for a  _ rough  _ night.

 

Bellamy walks in not even five minutes later for his break. “Whatever you did to that poor guy, he’s breathing harder than Murphy trying to speak to Emori.” 

 

“I haven’t done anything,” she shrugs, voice the epitome of innocence. He just crosses his arms and gives her the patent-pending Bellamy Blake  _ bullshit _ look. “Ok, I don’t know what went down between you two after the fight last week but you can’t torture him forever.” She barely contains a smirk, occupying herself with wiping down the bar top. “Cover me so I can go to talk to him?” 

 

Bellamy smiles, taking her place behind the counter. There’s a chill to the air and she wraps her arms around her body to fight it off. Marcus is lying back on the seat of his bike, his customary jacket draped over his lap, staring up at the starry night sky. “Why aren’t you, ya know,  _ wearing _ that jacket, it’s cold as hell.” He shoots upright at the sound of her voice, nearly toppling off the bike. The jacket slides off his lap and she can faintly see the answer  in the tent of his jeans. She ignores it, no need to cause him further embarrassment. “I’m not cold,” he mumbles and she rolls her eyes. “Well I am, so be a gentlemen, get over here and warm me up.” 

“I- uh…. _ what? _ ” He stammers rather adorably, completely missing the invitation she’d just given him. “Oh, for god sakes just get over here and kiss me you idiot.” 

 

*******

 

By the time she makes it back inside her hair is tousled and her clothes near disarray with a large grin on her face. Not to mention at least one mark she’s only just able to cover with the neck of her shirt. Marcus resigned himself back to his usual table, nose buried in some book she’s never heard of but plans to ask him about later. Sending her occasional smirks that she can’t help laughing at. Things seem to be going great.

 

Until they don’t.

 

It’s not often that things like this happen. Normally she has Bellamy by her side, warding off the creeps with fiery glares and growled warnings, but Bellamy’s stuck outside settling yet another fight. Thankfully much smaller than the last one.

 

Which means she’s stuck inside with Mr.Creepy Eyes as she’s taken to calling him. Staring her down from the other side of the bar like she’s his next meal. Leaving a very unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. He’s undeniably handsome but she can  _ feel _ the overconfidence and entitlement radiating off of him. He stretches theatrically once he reaches the bar counter, flexing impressively toned arms. “Hey there,” he says in an overly exaggerated tone, his dusty blonde hair flopping in his eyes. “What can I get you,” she greeted cheerily, reminding herself he  _ is _ a paying customer. “What do you recommend,” he winks, clearly trying to impress her. She looks back at her shelf, scanning through some of her most potent wares but settling on something a little less deadly. 

 

She pours and he takes a generous sup, wincing as the butter alcohol moves down his throat. “Oh God, what  _ is _ that?” He asks trying to wipe the taste of his tongue, making her laugh. “Just a little something I like to have to loosen up,” she says, downing her own shot without a grimace. The man whistles, eyes wide in astonishment. “William,” he says extending his hand. “Abby,” she replies, shaking his hand. “So, what's a girl like you doing behind a bar counter. You look like someone who belongs at the head of a big company.”

 

“Family business,” she says, patting the bar counter. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” On instinct she places a hand on his, cutting off his apology. “It’s fine, you couldn’t’ve known.”  He gives her an apologetic smile still and looks down at her hand still resting on top of his. “Well there goes my plan of trying to buy you a drink,” William says, making her tip her head back in a light chuckle. 

 

Marcus watched the pair from across the bar, hands gripping his book so hard the pages creased and bent. The way she smiled, so fond and caring. The way her free hand rested on his, and the way she laughed. A beautiful sound that always made the corner of her eyes crinkle in the most beautiful way. He had no right to these feelings, he held no claim over the incredible woman that was Abby Griffin. Yet he was overcome with jealousy. 

 

_ He _ wanted to be the one to hold her hand.  _ He _ wanted to be the one to tell her cheesy jokes that made her laugh like that.  _ He  _ wanted to be the one making her smile, ducking her head as a blush crept onto her cheeks.

 

Had he been too subtle? Did she think he only wanted her for her body? Had he not made it clear that he wanted to hers? He gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself from doing something rash. He tried to focus back on his book but the words blurred together so he gave up. He counted to ten, backward, forwards,  _ in Latin  _ but nothing could distract him from the way Abby beamed at something the mystery guy had said. 

 

He couldn't handle it anymore, jealousy eating him alive, and he stormed out of the bar. Leaving his book and dignity there at his table.

 

Abby, startled by the sound of chair scraping on the floor and the slamming door whipped her head around. Catching only a brief flash of his hair. “I have to go,” she blurts, throwing her towel down and almost running towards the door. She catches sight if Williams hurt and confused expression and makes a note to apologize if she ever sees him again. Right now, all she's worried about is making sure Marcus is okay.  

 

*******

 

His fist connects with the brick of the building, and he feels pain ripple down his arm. Making him cry out. He clutches his hand to his chest, hissing through his teeth at the pain. 

 

_ Stupid. _ His mind says, and not because he just  _ punched _ a brick wall.  _ Stupid _ for not making a move, a  _ real _ move when he had the chance. Abby was different from every girl he’d come across. She was beautiful, yes, but she was so much more. Kind, compassionate, witty and intelligent. She made him feel alive like no one had before and he’d gone and fucked it up by letting his needs get in the way of his head.  _ Stupid.  _

 

He rested his head against the wall, his hand still throbbing. If only he would’ve done something, held onto her a few minutes longer and said that he lov-

 

“ _ Marcus?” _ She calls into the night air, searching for him in the dark. “Marcus are you out here?” His heart soars and he fails to shove it back down to where it goes as she steps next to him. “Are you alright, I saw you run out like the devil was chasing you?” 

 

‘I’m fine,” he murmurs, and she believes it as much as he does.  _ Not at all. _ “You punched the wall,” she says dryly. “That’s not something some who is  _ fine _ does. What’s the matter?” 

 

“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m an ass,” he says, letting his head hang and arms drop to his side. She takes his injured hand into her own, trying to inspect the damage in the minimal lighting. “How do you know?” She says in a reassuring tone, trying to coax whatever it was out of him. “Because I have no right to say it, I...you... _ youdon’tbelongtomesoIhavenorighttobejealous.”  _ He blurts, wincing when the last syllable leaves his lips. “It doesn’t count if I can’t understand you Marcus.” He takes a few steadying breaths, running his good hand shakily through his hair. “I saw you with him and I got completely and totally, and irrationally  _ jealous. _ ” As much as he knows it’s going to hurt he watches her eyes. Waiting for the inevitable disgust that will fill them as his words settle over her. She raises a hand and he braces for the slap. He expected it and is in full agreement that he deserves it.

 

Except it never comes, she uses her hands to gently cup his jaw. Bringing his lips down to brush against hers. He stands in shock for a moment, unmoving because she’s  _ kissing  _ him. Not slapping him, or stomping away in disgust but  _ kissing him.  _ It takes 7 seconds before she’s held tightly to his chest. Feeling her kiss being returned eagerly. 

 

She stops him before he can get too carried away, as much as she’d like that there are some things that needed to be said. “There’s no need to be jealous Marcus, you have nothing to fear.” 

 

“But you’re not my-”

 

“Girlfriend.” She finishes for him, smirking at his sudden bashfulness. “I am if you want me to be.” His grip on her tightens just a fraction and she lets her hands card softly through his hair. “Of course I do,” he breathes and she smirks, her palm still resting on his scruffy jawline. 

 

He watches as a wry grin creeps onto her face, her fingers walking up his chest. “Now that it’s  _ official _ doesn’t that mean we can-” 

 

“ _ God yes, _ ” he groans, dipping down to kiss her. She laughs into his lips, giddy with all sorts of  _ adventurous _ thoughts. He licks hungrily into her mouth, eagerly parting her lips with his tongue. A gesture she wholly welcomes when she tastes the spicy sweetness of his mouth. This time it’s him who stops the kiss, panting heavily into her neck. “Don’t you still have work to do,” he says, afraid of the answer. She pulls back and checks her watch, nearly jumping for joy at the time. “Only half an hour until I’m  _ all yours,” _ she says, smirking. He makes a guttural sound, allowing her to take him by the hand and pull him back inside. Whispering a faint  _ mine. _

 

******* **  
**  


“Dear god that was the longest half hour of my life,” he says theatrically, dragging her up her own stairs by the hand. “You survived didn’t you?” She says, pulling out her key and trying to slip it into the lock. Finding it difficult with Marcus plastered to her back, placing hot open-mouthed kisses all over her neck. "Could you knock that off for a minute so I could get the door open?" Wordlessly, he takes the key from her hand, unlocking it on the first try. She pulls him inside and promptly shoves him down onto her couch. He reaches out for her but she takes a step back, letting her eyes run over him. “What are you doing?” He whines, not caring how need he sounds. “Just enjoying the view.” 

 

“I promise you it looks way better from right here,” He says, holding out his hand. She shakes her head just a little bit, loving the disappointed whimper he let's out. “ _ Please _ , Abby.” She gives just a moment's more pause before sliding into his lap. “Only because you asked nicely,” she laughs,  _ finally  _ kissing him. 

 

He almost sobs in relief, wrapping his arms tightly around her back. Moulding her every curve perfectly to his body. Her hands find their spot in his hair as his lips trail down her neck. She hums, tilting her head to granting him better access to her sensitive skin. He moves his hands slowly down her back, teasing at her sides and making her squirm against him. 

 

He pulls back unexpectedly, hands still resting on her ass. She gives him a look, asking him just what he thinks he's doing with her eyes. “Just…..enjoying the view,” he says, throwing her words back at her. She just smirks and ever so slowly begins to peel the shirt off her body. Dropping it somewhere behind her. He groans, attempting to kiss his way down her chest but is stopped by a sharp tug on his hair. “You too,” she says simply. Laughing at the way he fumbles out of his shirt in haste. Eager to learn the taste of her skin. “God you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her neck. “You’re not even looking at me,” she laughs, staring at his closed eyelids. He pulls back, giving her a  _ really  _ look. “Just shut up and take the compliment,” he says, adopting her joking air. “Why don’t you make me?” She says sparking the tension between them once more. In a second he stands up and she’s forced to wrap her body around his. Effortlessly, he finds the door to her bedroom, opening it and dropping her carefully onto the mattress. 

 

She’s got him halfway out of his jeans when his phone rings. “Ignore it,” she says, trying to get him to step out of the fabric. He groans loudly, and not for the right reasons. “I can’t, it’s my mom.” He pulls his jeans back up just enough to get his phone out. She flops back onto her bed, cursing the high heavens interrupting them, _ again. _ “Her dishwasher broke, I have to go,” he says with a sigh, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Can’t your dad fix it?” She whines, trying to pull him back to her. His face falls, a far off-ness coming to it that she’s never seen on him before. “I-I’m sorry-” she starts but he just kisses her head. “We can talk about that later, I have to go.” He kisses her one last time, not trusting himself with anything more than a quick peck. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the interruptions continue until it's not funny anymore. Sorry Not Sorry


	5. The 'first' date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a heartfelt conversation with his mom, Marcus realizes what must be done in terms of his relationship with Abby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was originally supposed to be some extra special in this chapter but I'm evil so I broke it off early. Sorry not sorry.

The moment he walks in the door his mother’s arms wrap around him tightly. Not that he needs it but he finds himself getting lost in the comforting scent only a mother could carry. She checked him over just like always, convinced that he was in mortal danger every time got onto his motorcycle. “I haven’t seen you in forever, if all it took was a broken washer I would’ve broken it myself,” Vera laughs, kissing her son’s cheek. He laughs with her, trying to shove down the guilt building in the pit of his stomach. It really had been forever. “Sorry, I’ve just been a bit busy.” His mother raises a questioning brow. “Did you get a job?”

 

“No,” he says following her into the kitchen. Seeing his toolset already out and waiting for him. “Have you been traveling?” He shakes his head and bends down to inspect the dishwasher. Looking for the cause of the puddle now surrounding it. He doesn’t see the slow smile that creeps onto his mother’s face as she finishes up dinner. Doesn’t see the way she turns to look at him fondly before, “You’ve met someone. What’s she like?” He turns and smiles because of course, it would take less than 5 minutes for his mother to figure him out. “Amazing.” 

 

“Marcus Bartholomew Kane, you went through nearly 20 years of education and the only word you can think of is amazing?” She chides, clearly not impressed with his answer. “What’s her name, where does she live. Where does she work, what does she look like? Is she shy? Does she laugh at stupid jokes? Be creative Marcus," She urges, excitement creeping into her voice. He never really went out with a lot of women and she couldn't help being interested whenever he did. "Her name is Abby, and she works at one of the bars in town. Well, she owns it," He starts, trailing off when he realizes he doesn't know nearly as much about his girlfriend as he should. He gulps and rubs the back of his neck like he always does when nervous. "You don't know anything else about her do you," Vera says, unaccusing but still hitting him hard. He shakes his head in an affirmative, feeling shame course through him. "Have you taken her on a proper date? And I mean a proper date, Raven's doesn't count," she laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "How did you know I'd taken her to Raven's?" He says, a hint of a smile returning to his face. "She called me right after she finished bothering you."

 

"Of course she did," he sighs theatrically. He pauses for a moment after, thoughts in his mind trying to fight their way out into the open. "She's special mom, I've never felt like this before." Vera smiles, laying a hand on her son's shoulder and squeezing gently. "Then show her Marcus. Show her how special you think she is." 

 

*******

 

The phone rings right on time, just like it does every Saturday. She picks it up, tucking it between her ear and shoulder as she washes glasses. "Right on time, mom. Good consistency," she jokes, just like she allows does. Enjoying the fulfilling sensation that can only come from keeping up with routine. "Hey kiddo, how's it going?" 

 

"Pretty good, haven't burned the place down yet." Her mother chuckles, relaying the information to her father. "Is business good? Has there been any trouble, you know I always worry about you getting mixed up in-"

 

"There was only one fight mom, and I'm smart enough not to jump in the middle of them. That's what bouncers are for," she interrupts gently. "I know, I know. You'll understand the worry once you have kids of your own." Abby rolls her eyes, somehow her mom found a way to bring that topic up in every phone call. "Anyway, how's traveling. Last time you called me you said you guys were on the road?"

 

"Oh we've almost finished up, only one more stop to go," her mother says, a smile in her voice. "And where would that be? The city? Oh, are you finally visiting the Grand Canyon." 

 

"That's still on the list, but you'll know soon enough." Abby's about to question just what that's supposed to mean when strong arms wrap around her from behind. Making her yelp into the phone. "Honey, are you all right?" She turns, giving Marcus a glare for scaring her. "Yeah, I'm fine.  I know it's early but I'm going to have to let you go. There's some uh...stuff I need to do. Love you."  She hangs up and turns around, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

"Hi," Marcus says dumbly. Looking too proud for his own good. "You have absolutely  _ got  _ to stop doing that. How'd you even get in here?"

 

"The door, you never lock it." She rolls her eyes, pushing herself up to sit on the bar counter. "Next question,  _ why  _ are you here?" 

 

"I need to know if you own a dress. Not too formal, something that one might wear to perhaps a very fine eating establishment?" He says, looking up at her with that ridiculous smirk. "Why?" 

 

"Well, there's this girl that-"

 

"I will actually punch you if you finish that sentence," Abby warns, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt to pull him closer. "Alright next question, well it's not really a question but anyway. I need you to take Saturday off, all of it." She gawks, letting go of his shirt to thread her hands into his hair. Checking all over his skull. "What are you doing?" He asks, giving her a questioning look. "Checking for trauma, I think you're going crazy. Because that's something a crazy person says." He grabs her wrists between his fingers, kissing each of them then looking up at her. His eyes dark and serious. "No, it's something a man looking to take his incredibly sexy girlfriend on a proper date says." He steps closer, letting his hands rest on her waist, the heat of his skin burning through the material of her shirt. She gulps, the darkness in his eyes makes her stomach churn in incredibly pleasant ways. Emboldened by it, and the shifting energies in the room, she threads her hand in his hair once more. Tugging on it until he looks at her square in the eye. "I let you get away with it last time but not again. I won't go if you don't ask me right. So go on Marcus, ask me right," she whispers, watching his breath catch in his throat. 

 

He licks his lips, fighting back the urge to just kiss her then and there. Knowing that if he does he won't be able to say what needs to be said. "I want to take you on a proper date. I want us to get dressed up, I want to pick you up like a gentleman, I want to open doors for you and pull out your chair. I want to hold your hand across the table and let you sneak bites off my plate. I want everyone's eyes on us as we walk out, I want to kiss you in the car just because I can. Then I want to take you back here and...." He trails off, suddenly unsure of himself. "I want that too but you have to ask me properly," she says, never letting an opportunity to tease and prod him to go to waste. “If you want a proper date you have to ask like a proper gentleman.” She can see his eyes roll just a little bit as he steps back and straightens his shirt. “Abigail Griffin, I would very much enjoy if you would accompany me to a dinner, shall I say around 7 Saturday night,” he says in, kissing her knuckles and being very much the theatrical idiot he’s always been. “Sorry, I’m working on Saturday.” She hops off the counter, sliding past him and into the seating area. “Abby,” He whines, mouth hanging open and hands reaching for her. “You’ve got to give me a better reason than some hand holding and door opening,” she takes two steps towards him. Getting in his personal space and tipping her head up defiantly. “You’ve got to…..make it worth my while.” 

 

He recognizes her teasing look and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of playing this game with her. He takes a step and their chests press together, not a shred of distance between anything but their lips. “And then I want to you take you back here, kiss you until you can’t breathe. To touch and tease you until you can’t take it,” he whispers, breath hot on her neck. She gulped, trying to push back all the glorious images her mind was conjuring. “Is that worth it?” He hummed, hands toying with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah.” It came out too eager and he stepped back and smirked at her. She could’ve punched him but chose a different route. Using hands his hair to tug his mouth down to hers. 

 

*******

 

The hand that locks onto his collar as he tries to walk into the bar scares the shit out of him. It’s Friday and all he wants to do is spend some time with Abby, the wait for their date had been killing him; but no, instead he’s dragged into an alley. The low light making it impossible for him to see his attacker. “We need to talk,” a voice he instantly recognizes says. “You could’ve just asked, I was about to  _ deck _ you,” Marcus warns, letting his fists drop. “You would’ve missed but that’s not the point. We need to talk about Abby.” 

 

“What about her?” He asks, suddenly nervous. Was she alright? Had something happened? It had only been a few days since he had seen her but he couldn’t help jumping to the worst conclusions. “Okay, so it’s not so much about  _ her. _ It’s more you, specifically your relationship.”   
  


“What about?” He’s getting more confused and impatient by the second. Silently urging Bellamy to just  _ get on with it. _ “If you hurt her, in any way shape or form. It’ll be the last thing you ever do. I know your type, you come in all cool and you sweep her off her feet. Then leave her high and dry once you get what you want out of her,” Bellamy says bitterly, and if it were almost anyone else. Marcus would’ve punched him. “Any man worth his salt that gets the opportunity to get within two feet of her would know she’s not a chance to be wasted,” Marcus says before walking away, barely catching the way Bellamy nods before letting out a deep sigh of what he hopes is relief. 

 

*******

 

Callie nearly tackles her in a hug when she tells her about it. About everything. She had been away on a trip with her family, some sort of reunion thing and couldn’t take any calls. Now, she’s helping her get ready for her date with Marcus. 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me sooner!” Callie whines, handing her different things as she applies her makeup. “Cal, you got back in the states 10 hours ago and were sleeping for 8 of them. My calls wouldn’t even have gone through.”

 

“Still,” Callie says, “You should’ve told me sooner.” Abby sighs deeply, exasperated with her impossible friend. “I apologize miss Cartwig, next time I’ll tell you the exact details of what transpires whenever I go out with my boyfriend.” 

 

“I’m going to kill you,” Callie said suddenly, scaring the life out of Abby as her friends took her by the shoulders and spun her so they were face to face. “So you two have already been seeing each other and you see it fit to tell me this  _ now?”  _ She said, shocked. Sounding exactly like she had when they were teenagers and talking about boys. “Yeah, we’ve been together for….a bit.” 

 

“Oh.My.God.” She starts an Abby knows exactly where this is going. “You're totally going to-”

 

“Finish that sentence and I'm staying home,” Abby warns and Callie smacks a hand over her mouth. Smirking, Abby takes a glance down at her watching. A quarter to seven. “Come on, let's go make sure everything's in order for tomorrow. The sports crowd is always our biggest night.” 

 

“You're a workaholic,” Callie mutters while following her downstairs. “A gorgeous going-to-get-laid workaholic though.”

 

“Nope, I told you if you said if I wasn't going. Back upstairs.” 

 

“I truly hope you're joking, I was  _ really _ looking forward to holding your hand,” Marcus says, startling them both. Abby stuttered, looking back and forth between Marcus and Callie, suddenly and inexplicably  _ nervous. _ Callie was tactfully looking at her phone, avoiding watching Marcus as he practically  _ devoured  _ Abby with his eyes. 

 

It was a simple dress really. Vibrant red and reaching down to mid-thigh. It wasn’t sparkly or very revealing but it still made his mouth water and head spin. Because it was Abby,  _ his Abby, _ and she was gorgeous.  _ She _ made the dress gorgeous and anyone who tried to tell him otherwise had another thing coming. 

 

Her head was bowed and her arms resting almost protectively across her chest. She looked scared almost? Like somehow in this moment she  _ wasn’t _ the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “And here I thought I'd only have trouble seeing you in your Aaron's shirt,” He said, trying to get a smile to creep onto her face but it only seemed to make her shrink further into herself. Callie shot him a look that he couldn't quite decipher before retreating upstairs after whispering something to Abby. 

 

His hand was soft and warm against her cheek, scaring her just a little bit with its sudden appearance. His thumb brushes gently across her cheek and he murmurs her name. It works, she tilts her head up just enough to meet his eyes. The look in them blows her away.

 

Pure adoration. That's the only way to describe. No one in her life has looked at her the way Marcus Kane does. Slowly, she lets the coil in her stomach loosen, all traces of her apprehension disappearing. 

 

He can see the slump in her shoulders and lets out a silent breath. He snakes his arms around her back and her head drops to his shoulder. They stand there for a long time, just holding one another. Breathing in and out as one until the time for their reservation arrives. 

 

Marcus offers her his arm she takes it, letting him lead her out of the door and into the passenger seat of his…. _ car? _ “What happened to the bike?” She asks as he turns the key in the ignition. “Proper date, proper transportation. Besides would you  _ really _ want to try and ride my bike in a dress like  _ that.” _ She shakes her head and he smirks. “But if you're so inclined, I'm always down to for a ride.”

 

*******

  
  


The restaurant he picked is beautiful, decorated to look like a dazzling night sky being viewed from the canopy of a forest. With just enough greenery to add to the decor but not to overcrowd it.  _ It’s perfect _ and her eyes light up at the thousand tiny lights scattered on the ceiling, blinking and making an amazing picture. 

 

Marcus does everything he said he would. He holds the door for her and pulls out her chair when the young waiter leads them to their table. They've barely gotten comfortable in their seats when the waiter comes to take their drink orders, looking to Abby first. She scans the menu, completely lost for half of the items on it. Marcus asks for a few minutes to decide before gently taking the menu out of her hands. Not letting her use it to hide the slight flush to her cheeks. “What's the matter?”

 

“I don't know what half of those say,” she says with a small shrug. “Abby, you own a bar but you don't know wine?” He says it in such a teasing manner that she can't help but laugh. “You're right, I  _ do _ own a bar but I don't speak French, and I don't serve wine.” He chuckles again, giving her another half-smirk. “First of all, it's Spanish.” 

 

“Oh, let me guess you spe-.” She doesn't get the chance to finish her question as the waiter comes for their drink orders again. The name of some expensive sounding wine rolling off Marcus’ tongue,  _ in perfect Spanish. _ “I hate you,” she says the moment the waiter leaves. “No, you don't.” She rolls her eyes playfully, flashing him a powerless glare. “How would you even know what I'd like? You've never seen me drink more than whiskey and scotch.” Marcus licks his lips, eyes unexpectedly dropping to hers. “I'd like to say I have pretty good taste, but I'm  _ positive _ you have better.” 

 

*******

 

Finishing the last of her pasta, Abby set her fork down just as Marcus was setting his napkin back in his lap. “That was incredible.” Marcus hums in agreement and signals the waiter for the bill. Marcus takes her hand as they walk out, throwing a quick glance behind them. Smirking for some reason she can’t decipher. “What was that all about?” She asks once they're in the car. “Just checking more things off the list.”

 

“The list?” Abby raises her eyebrows having no idea what  _ ‘the list’ _ was. “I gave you a list of things I wanted to do tonight, and I plan on sticking to it. I am  _ very _ particular about my lists,” He says it like they’re talking about the weather and not the fact he just  _ promised _ that the night would end with them in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Panting but still glowing with bliss. “Good, I like a man who keeps his promises.”

 

“Well then am I going over there or are you coming over here because I’m not sure how much longer I can go without kissing you.” In a second she steps over the center console, sitting herself comfortably in Marcus’ lap. Her dress coming to bunch around her waist as she straddles him. “Do all of your lists involve kissing me?” She asks, her hands finding their customary spots in his thick mane of hair. “Only the good ones.” She laughs, leaning down to press her lips fiercely against his. He kisses her back with just as much force, wrapping his arms around her back. She parts his lips with her tongue, tasting the fiery sweetness of the wine they’d drank. His hands guide her hips to move against him, sending delicious sparks of friction between their bodies. She breaks away from his mouth to pepper kisses down his throat. Sucking and biting marks into the tanned skin then soothing them with her tongue before moving lower. Kissing his chest as she slowly unbuttons his shirt. She runs her hands over his chest feeling the muscles twitch and shift under her touch. “Abby,” he breathes, voice rough with desire. She only hums in response, too busy kissing his skin. “Abby,” he says again in a firmer voice. She picks her head up to look at him, smirking at the way his breath is coming pants. “I love what you’re doing, darling, but this would be  _ much _ more fun in a bed hmm?” It’s a half hour drive back to the bar, and she’s not sure either of them can wait that long but the images that flash through her mind are too good to pass up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter. Will they finally do it or will there be another interruption? What's your guess?


	6. That's a win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She pulls back suddenly, terrifying him that he’d done something horribly wrong. “Keep your Monday schedule free,” Abby blurts, a strange smile on her face. “What?”
> 
> “Trust me, just do it. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

She takes his hand as he steps out of the car, all but dragging him inside. He steals kisses at every chance he gets and she drinks them in. Cradling his face in her hands, the scritch of his stubble heightening every sensation. They kiss slowly, lips meeting gentle but passionate moving in tandem. Marcus’ hands rest on her hips, the pads of his thumbs rubbing in small circles as he traces her bottom lip with his tongue. Tasting the fiery sweetness of her mouth. 

They kissed like they had all the time in the world until it just wasn’t enough. Until Abby threaded her hands in his hair, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Until his body was pressing her into the wall as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, blindly trying to undo them as she kissed the underside of his jaw. Biting harshly at his collarbone. Until she untucks his shirt from his slacks to run her hands along his bare chest. Kissing and nipping at the tanned skin until he growls and drags her up the stairs. Attacking her with hard hungry kisses. She laughs into his lips, wrapping a hand around the fabric of his tie and using it to pull him through the door. Then down on top of her as soon as she falls back onto the couch. He falls clumsily after her, a small  _ oof _ passing his lips as he tries not to crush her under his weight. “Eager aren’t we?” Marcus smirks, kissing a trail from her ear down her jaw. “I’ve wanted to do this for-”

“ _ Abby!” _ They both freeze heads whipping towards the sound of the new voice. Marcus has no idea who the woman is, looking at them like she’d witnessed a murder but she bears a striking resemblance to- 

“ _ Mom?” _ Abby gasps, putting a hand on Marcus’ chest to gently push him off her. The door to Abby’s room opens and another figure steps out, scanning the room until  _ his _ eyes until they land onto the two disheveled and panting people on the couch. Their previous activities evident in their dark eyes and kiss-swollen lips. Abby’s cursing under her breath, trying to look anywhere but her father’s eyes. She may be 25 but  _ no one _ is immune to the embarrassment of being caught by your parents. “What is going on? Who is that? This better not be what I think it is.” Her father says in a tone that momentarily makes her feel like a teen again. Abby looks over at Marcus for some sort of help but he looks like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “This is Marcus.” Her father folds his arms, giving her the look that told her to stop being a smart alec. “You didn’t tell us you were seeing anyone? We like to know things like that.” 

“I’m an adult dad, I can date whoever I want. I don’t need permission.” He scowls and she does the same. She  _ is _ an adult, it’s not her fault her parents decided to stop by for an unexpected visit. “I wasn’t saying that but this isn’t something I wanted to see. How would you feel if you found your only child pinned beneath well, someone like that,” He says gesturing vaguely at Marcus who she realizes is still sitting there dumbfounded with his shirt unbuttoned. Abby whispers his name and nudges him in the ribs, snapping him out of it and making him hastily button his shirt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She says defensively, crossing her arms. Her mother takes a step forward, laying a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Be a little understanding dear, this isn’t something we ever intended to see. We’re just a little shocked.”

“Be a little understanding? Of what? I love you guys, but  _ you  _ came in here unexpected. As far as I knew my apartment was empty and perfectly suitable for what was planned. There’s nothing to be understanding about.” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you sweetheart, there’s no need to get defensive.” Abby scoffs, she loves her father but he had always been too protective. Scaring away anyone she had even a drop of romantic feelings for. It frustrated her beyond end and she would  _ not _ let Marcus fall victim to it. “I don’t need to be looked out for, I’m just fine.” Marcus fidgeted on the spot, looking nervously between Abby and her parents. Debating on whether or not he should leave them to sort this out. He had never been good in these type of situations. “This isn’t encouraging behavior sweetheart, now we said that if this place was a bad influence on you-”

“ _ Enough,” _ she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair in wild frustration. “I am  _ not  _ a misbehaving 16-year-old, you don’t get to pull that shit. This isn’t just some fling and even if it was I’m not obligated to justify my actions to you.” Her mother steps forward, standing in front of her father. “Why don’t we all take a breath, we can come back to this with calm words in a few minutes.” She grabs Marcus’ hand and drags him out of the apartment, the door shutting loudly behind them. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this angry, or angry  _ at all _ for the matter. It’s terrifying among other things. She lets go of him, striding towards the bar counter, but he catches her. Pulling her back into his chest. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked gently, stroking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What do you mean  _ ‘what’s going on’  _ you were in that room too.” He tightens his hold on her, feeling her start to slip away. “Yeah, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset. So what’s going on?” She shakes her head, burying her face in his chest. It takes a moment as he replays the conversation in his mind but he thinks he just might have it. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens the only way I’m leaving is if you tell me to,” Marcus whispers, swaying side to side as he holds her to his chest. Feeling the anger and frustration drain out of her slowly until she wraps her arms around his torso. Swaying with him. 

He holds her for a long time, so focused on her he doesn’t hear the feet descending the stairs just behind him. A throat clears and they separate slowly, Abby still holding on to Marcus’ arm. Her father nods his head towards the door, urging them to follow. 

When Abby and Marcus seat themselves on the couch it’s with stern calm faces and entwined hands. “I know how old you are darling, but as your father I can’t help but always see you as my little girl. Seeing you...like that was just something I never wanted to think about, let alone witness. It was just a shock to the system.”

“And so was having _you_ see that, I was under the impression that my  _ home _ was empty,” She says, crossing her arms. Feeling irritation creep up again. “Enough of that,” her mother says waving her hands. “Why don’t you just introduce him and we can forget about earlier.” Abby looks over at Marcus and smiles, the one he  _ knows _ means whatever she says next will cause trouble. “This is Marcus and I guarantee he can beat you poker.”

*******

“I can’t believe you made me do this,” he mumbled, shuffling the deck. “C’mon, it’s the first thing I noticed about you. I felt like it  _ had _ to be brought up. Besides, I quite enjoy watching the way you hands move the cards. Makes me wonder what else they-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m not going to be able to concentrate on the game,” he pleaded, taking a long sip of his drink to soothe his suddenly dry throat. “Fine, but beat him quick. We have the Sunday football crowd tomorrow.” 

“I’m not sure when I started working for you.” She laughs finishing up both her parent’s drinks. “The day you jumped into the middle of a bar brawl and got a bottle smashed over your head.”    


“Enough with the flirting, you can continue after you’ve been sufficiently beaten,” Her father calls, already seated at the table. In the half hour it had taken to convince Marcus to participate in the game, Henry had warmed quite well to him. Although he still wasn't over seeing him with his hand's on Abby, he could definitely see himself growing to like Marcus.

 “You’re pretty cocky for someone who hasn’t even picked up a chip in ages Dad,” Abby pokes, dealing both men and herself into the game. Her mother wasn’t particularly fond of the game but delighted in watching the almost proud way Abby observed Marcus as he smiled at his cards. 

Marcus pushes forward his ante into the pot. Shocked noises leaving both Griffin’s mouths at the amount. “And you said  _ I  _ was cocky, sheesh,” Henry mumbles, matching the amount. Abby frowns at her cards, forgetting to keep her features in check. “Something wrong?” Marcus smirks and she resists the urge to kick his leg under the table. “Absolutely not,” She smiles, folding from the game. Poker wasn't her thing anyway. 

The game doesn’t go any better for the older Griffin. Marcus beating his hand by a mile. It’s much the same in the game after that, and the next one, and the next and so on. Until playing another round is beyond pointless. “You weren’t lying Abs, I’d be bankrupt if we were playing for money. How do you do it?” Marcus shuffles the deck idly, nimble fingers manipulating the cards deftly. “My father taught me to play when I was a little kid. I guess I just had a knack for it and wanted to learn everything he could teach me and more.” 

“Interesting.” Henry yawns and Abby looks at the clock, seeing it nearing 1 AM. “How long are you guys staying so I know how long to make arrangements?”   


“Oh just the night dear, we haven’t been home for almost a month. I’m sure the house sitter is growing bored.” Her father yawns again and she rolls her eyes. It didn’t take more than 7 of her 18 years living with him to know that was his signal to wrap things up.  _ Some things never change, _ she muses taking Marcus’ hand to walk him to his car. “Will I ever get a moment alone with you?” She sighs, giving him a playful look. “We’re alone right now.” She steps into his space, looking up at him slyly. “That’s not what I mean.” The hum of approval he makes as he leans down to kiss her softly makes her heart flutter. The way he cradles her face so reverently in his hands only intensifies this. 

She pulls back suddenly, terrifying him that he’d done something horribly wrong. “Keep your Monday schedule free,” Abby blurts, a strange smile on her face. “What?”

“Trust me, just do it. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”


	7. Getting Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It fucking happens.
> 
> Pun intended

He had gotten calls from both Bellamy and CeCe informing him that Abby was sick. A fact that was peculiar for two reasons; one was that he had never given either of those people his phone number, and two, Abby herself had neglected to inform him of her illness. Abby was too direct to leave it to someone else to tell him. Something was off, not in a bad way, not if the hunch he had was correct. Not bad at all. 

Today was Monday and he was 100% sure Abby Griffin was the furthest thing from sick.

It made him nervous and flushed all at once. A new kind of emotional cocktail he wasn’t sure he’d sampled before. Depending on how the night went, he quite figured he might like the taste. 

*******

He arrived around 3, dressed in his usual riding gear. The bar was locked with the lights out, all making it look like they wouldn’t be opening today. Marcus fished the spare key out of his pocket, walking as calmly as he could up the stairs to knock on her door. 

It opened in a heartbeat and he felt his own speed up tremendously. Why is he nervous? Why does this feel so different? Why can’t he slow the racing of his heart. He’s at a loss for words, something big and heavy and loaded with weight is stuck in his throat. Trying to force it’s way out. He shivers, just the slightest when she takes his hand and pulls him inside. 

It takes a moment for her to notice. He’s looking at her far off, wide-eyed and seemingly….terrified. Staring like he has no idea who she is or where he’s at. It worries her, Marcus is never scared. “Marcus, baby. What’s wrong?” He doesn’t speak but lets out a shuddering breath, enveloping her in his strong arms. She lets him hold her, her own arms wrapping around his back to hold him tight. The press of her body meant to soothe him. With her ear pressed against his chest, she can hear the pounding of his heart. Fast and erratic. He’s scared and she has no idea why, and if he won’t talk she can only do so much to help him. 

Abby takes his hand again, gently pulling him toward her room. It makes his breath catch and blood pound in his ears. He starts to shake his head, muttering incoherently until she shushes him gently. “It’s alright Marcus, you’re okay. Just come lay down.” She pulls back the comforter and climbs in, leaving plenty of space for him. Her voice is soft and inviting, exuding comfort. As much as it scares him to get into that bed he does it. Laying his head on her chest and wrapping his arms around her body. Abby pets his hair, combing gentle, soothing fingers through it. “Whatever it is, whatever’s got you so shaken up. It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise,” She murmured impossibly sweet. Delicate words falling over him like a soft blanket. Soothing him enough for the heaviness of sleep to set in. 

They fall asleep tangled together. Her cradling his head to her chest hands still buried in his hair. Him still wrapped tightly around her. 

*******

Marcus wakes up with his nose in the crook of her neck, her chest steadily rising and falling beneath his head. He nuzzles closer, lips absently brushing against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Abby sighs shifting closer to him sleepily. He presses another kiss to her skin, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when she softly moans. He trails kisses up from her shoulder, slow and delicate intermingled with soft flicks of his tongue. Ending when her eyes flutter open just as he reaches her ear. “Good morning.” Her eyes dart to the clock on her nightstand, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. “It’s five o’clock in the evening. Try again.” Marcus strokes his chin theatrically, making a thinking face. “You take my breath away, I’m at a loss for words.”

Abby chuckles and shrugs her shoulders, “What can I say, I’m an expert thief.” Her hands land in his hair, mussing it playfully. He traps it between his, folding it so he can place kisses on each of her knuckles. “Yeah, you stole my heart too.”

“You want it back?” She asks teasingly, wincing when a flash of fear return to his eyes. “Not at all, it belongs to you now.” Abby looks down at him feeling the air in the room grow thicker. “Yeah, what about the rest of you.” He gulps and bites his lip. “Yours if you want.” She leans down to kiss him slowly, lips meeting in soft tender brushes. “I do want you.” Seeing the darkness in his eyes she skims a hand down his chest, resting it on the tent of his jeans. “And I think you want me too.” Marcus half laughs half moans, even through layers of fabric the pressure is enough to make a pleasant shiver run through his body. Abby smirks, hooking a leg over his to slide on top of his body. “So I finally get you all to myself, whatever shall I do to you.” He looks unabashedly up at her, hands clutching at her hips just hard enough not to leave bruises. “Anything.” 

No one says much for a long time after that. 

They don’t need words, anything that needs to be said -needs to be communicated- is said with their eyes.  

Him pausing in the midst of a bruising kiss, his hands at the hem of her shirt  _ asking. _ She looks back softly and he pulls the fabric up, tossing it to the side. He moans low in his throat sitting up abruptly to kiss along the swell of her breasts. Sighing like a weary traveler finally coming home.

Her hands reaching for the clasp of her bra, grinning wryly at his sharp intake of breath. The look in his eyes as the fabric falls away is something she’ll never forget. 

It’s not just appreciation for her nearly bared body or desire, it’s barely sexual. It’s trust, affection, awe and something bold, strong,  _ powerful _ . She doesn’t put a name to it yet but she knows it’s  _ there,  _ and it’ll be burned into her mind forever. 

Abby’s skin is soft like nothing else he’s ever felt, like heaven against his own. Lips hot on his own, kissing him dizzy. Her hands do incredible things to his body, nails running lightly down his chest. Just enough to make him shiver. Stopping at the zip of his jeans and waiting for permission. 

She drags the zip down tortuously slow, teasing him with whispers of friction before standing up and pulling both jeans and boxers down his legs. Her own already thrown to the floor. 

Slowly she climbs back on top of him, hands on either side of his head. “You finally got me huh,” he says wryly, giving her the same teasing look he always does. “You mad about being caught, because I don’t plan on letting go.”

“Not at all,” and then in one smooth motion she sinks down onto him. Blissful sighs escaping into the air.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's a tad short, not exactly a smut fest and more feelingsy than expected but hey. This is all on short notice, I leave the country in roughly 4 days and I don't expect to even have my laptop with me. I'm surprised I got anything done,


End file.
